A Man For All Seasons
by Hauchen
Summary: Whilst suffering from a bad fever Gomez Addams has a dream. A dream involving secret agents, a beautiful woman and a nefarious villain known as 'The Razor'.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hi everyone, and welcome to my first foray into Addams Family fanfiction! This is a rather silly idea that came to me after watching a rerun of Johnny English (from which I nabbed the title for this story) and many, _many_ repeated viewings of the 60s Addams Family TV series. It's set within the 60s show, though it's slightly influenced by the 90s cartoon as well.**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

**Prologue:**

**The Sickness of Gomez Addams**

_Mama had outdone herself that evening._

_The family tucked in to her roast yak with gusto, the children requesting seconds and then thirds of her aardvark soup. Feeling comfortably full, Morticia dabbed daintily at her lips with a black napkin and leaned back in her chair._

"_That was simply wonderful, Mama!" She exclaimed and the old woman smiled crookedly._

"_But of course", she responded proudly._

_Morticia returned the smile before turning her attention to her loving husband. Her expression quickly fell._

"_Gomez darling, you haven't touched your food"._

_He glanced up at her, his fork idly prodding the yak. There was a glazed, unfocused look to his eyes that Morticia didn't like._

"_I'm sorry, my dear", he said, setting down the fork. "My appetite appears to be elsewhere"._

_Her hand was on his forehead in a flash, her eyes widening as the rest of the family curiously watched the pair. Icy fingers met fiery flesh and her anxiety grew._

"_You're burning up", she informed him worriedly, one hand caressing his cheek. _

_A box beside the table quickly opened and Thing appeared, the end of a hose gripped in his fingers. He pointed it at Gomez and prepared to turn it on._

"_Now, now Thing", said Morticia, "I meant that figuratively, not literally"._

_Thing dropped the hose dejectedly, clicked his fingers in disappointment and promptly closed the box. Morticia turned back to her ailing husband._

"_I want you to go right upstairs and rest", she said, her voice stern yet kind. "I don't want you getting any worse"._

"_But _querida_…"_

"_Gomez you're sick, you _must_ go to bed". There was a hard edge to her voice now._

_Gomez's eyes flashed. "Tish!" he growled, taking hold of her arm. "When you order me about like that, it drives me wild!"_

_He pressed his lips to her arm, creating a trail of kisses that were usually hot with passion but now burned only from the fever. Morticia placed a hand beneath his chin and gently raised his face so that their eyes met._

"_Not now, darling", she said softly. "Rest now, orders later"._

"_Ah, yes. Yes, of course"._

_Gomez pushed himself back from the table and rose somewhat shakily to his feet. "Well, if you'll all excuse me"._

_And he turned and headed for the staircase. For a moment nobody moved, and then Fester reached across the table and placed Gomez's plate on top of his own empty one._

_"No sense letting good food go to waste!" He grinned._

* * *

_Gomez entered the bedroom and sighed heavily. He felt terrible, and despite his reluctance to come up here the bed looked wonderfully inviting. He leaned down to pull off his shoes, then sat down on the bed and shrugged off the jacket of his suit. He dropped it unceremoniously to the floor and then flopped backwards onto the wonderfully hard mattress._

_Within seconds he was asleep, and not long after that he began to dream..._


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alright, so seeing as the prologue was pretty short and I already had this chapter finished, I decided to upload it earlier than I'd intended (rest assured future updates will _not_ be this quick). This is where that 90s cartoon influence begins to appear, though dreams are allowed to get a little silly, right?**

**Anywho, I'd just like to thank Dion Mystique for the kind review (it always amazes me when people like my writing) and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it!  
**

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**Chapter 1:**

**Enter Agent Zero**

_**Secret Service HQ **_

Sam L. Hilliard was not having a very good morning. In fact, nothing had been going particularly well for the past two days, ever since the Secret Service received word that one of their most dangerous foes, The Razor, had escaped from his confinement in what was supposed to be a maximum security prison.

Rumours had quickly sprung up regarding The Razor's current location and the decision had been made to send Double-O-Itt, their best agent, to investigate. Hilliard prayed for a successful mission - he did not want to be the one to deliver yet more bad news to the Director.

"Mr Hilliard?"

He ceased pacing his office and glanced up. Miss Comstock, a friendly, curly haired woman, was standing by his desk. She did not look happy.

"What is it?" Hilliard asked, sharper than intended. "Have we heard from Itt?"

"Yes", said Miss Comstock, "and it's not good news I'm afraid".

"Oh no..." Hilliard slumped into his chair. "What happened?"

"Well it turns out that sending someone made entirely of hair to investigate a man called The Razor isn't such a good idea after all", Miss Comstock explained. "Itt is currently in the hospital, recovering from some serious shaving relating injuries".

"I knew it was a bad idea to send an Addams!" Hilliard exclaimed, slamming his fists against his desk. "We should never have hired him, didn't I tell you?! Now the Director will have my head!" He buried his head in his arms and moaned. "I can barely bring myself to call him".

"He already knows", said Miss Comstock calmly, "and since Itt is incapacitated he's insisting we now use Agent Zero".

"Agent Zero?!" Hilliard's eyes widened. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, _no_! And that's final!"

"But..."

"No, no buts! I mean it!"

"Well, it certainly sounds lively in here. Are we having a party?"

Hilliard froze, the colour draining from his face. Ever so slowly he turned his gaze to the doorway where Gomez Addams, aka Agent Zero, was standing with a large smile on his face and a lit cigar in hand.

"Mr Addams!" Miss Comstock whirled round to face him. "I'm so glad you could make it so quickly!"

"Think nothing of it, my dear". Gomez grinned roguishly at her and took a large drag from the cigar. "As soon as I heard about all this terrible business with Double-O-Itt I came running".

"How wonderful", Hilliard groaned, burying his head again.

"Yes, it's hard to believe The Razor is on the loose again", Miss Comstock added.

"Indeed", said Gomez, slipping the cigar into his breast pocket. "So where is the rapscallion?"

"At a club", Miss Comstock replied. "_The Old Down and Out_. It was the last thing Itt was able to tell us before he got..._shaved_".

Everyone in the office gave an involuntary shudder.

"Say no more", said Gomez, lightning another cigar, "I'll bring this fiend to justice!"

Miss Comstock clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh I knew we could count on you!" She exclaimed. "We'll send you off just as soon as F has shown you the new gadgets he's been working on".

A large smile spread across Gomez's face. Hilliard groaned again.

* * *

"Fester old boy! Good to see you!"

"Gomez, I'm not Fester! I'm F!" F insisted, looking up from his table of gadgets to glare at the secret agent now approaching him. "Please use my codename when speaking to me!"

"Of course, sorry about that". Gomez turned his attention to the table, an excited glint in his eyes. "So what have you got for me?"

"Well", said F proudly, "do you see this pen?"

He picked up a completely ordinary looking fountain pen and held it up for Gomez to see.

"Looks pretty normal, right?"

"I'd say so".

F grinned. "Wrong! Watch this!"

He pulled the lid off the pen and without warning it exploded. Gomez hastily ducked beneath the table and when the dust had settled and he dared to look F was laughing heartily, his coat and face covered in black scorch marks.

"Impressive", Gomez mused, "but do you actually have time to throw it before it explodes?"

F frowned. "Why would you want to do that? The explosion's the fun part!"

Gomez nodded. "That's a fair point".

F brushed down his coat and grinned before picking up the next gadget.

"Now take a look at this one", he said, "on the outside it's a totally inconspicuous watch but just press this button in here and..."

Another explosion rocked the lab. Thing, the resident safety official, emerged from a box of miscellaneous parts at the end of the table and sprayed F with a fire extinguisher.

"Thanks Thing", F wheezed, "I think I overdid it a little on that one".

Thing bent his fingers into the universal sign for 'a-okay' and disappeared back into the depths of the box. F wiped foam off of what was left of his coat and took hold of another gadget.

"You're going to love this one, it's my favourite", he smirked. "Looks just like a normal wallet right? Well you just open it up -"

"- Let me guess", Gomez interrupted, "it explodes?"

F frowned. "How'd you know? Have you been looking at my blueprints?"

Gomez shrugged. "Lucky guess. F, do _all_ of these gadgets explode?" He gestured to the entire table with his arm as he spoke.

F's frowned deepened. "You _have_ been looking! Those blueprints are top secret you know!"

"I assure you I haven't laid a single eye on your blueprints!"

"Very well", F muttered. "I do have one more thing to show you. Follow me".

He led Gomez across the lab to a beautiful 1933 Packard V-12. The vehicle was painted black with a red leather interior and the dashboard was decorated with a wide assortment of buttons, each one with a tiny label printed above it.

"Your car, Agent Zero", said F proudly.

"By George, she's magnificent!" Gomez exclaimed, running a hand across one of the doors as he peered inside.

"Our finest work", F agreed. "Just don't put her into reverse".

Gomez stared at him. "Why on Earth not?"

"She'll explode".

Gomez struck a match on the palm of his hand and lit up a cigar, not looking overly impressed for once. "So what do I do if I need to go backwards?"

"You know how to do a u-turn don't you?" F shook his head. "Honestly, do I have to think of everything for you? You're supposed to be the secret agent here!"

"Ah, yes", said Gomez thoughtfully, "I didn't think of that".

F rolled his eyes. "Well here you go", and he handed Gomez the keys to the car.

"You know", said Gomez, "if I'm going to be tracking down this Razor fellow, don't I need some kind of camera or audio recording device?"

"Pah!" F snorted. "You don't need any of that. Just shoot him in the back!"

"While that _is_ a sound idea I'm not sure the higher-ups would appreciate it", Gomez argued as he climbed into the car.

"It'd get The Razor out of our hair for good", F countered.

"But F, you don't have any hair!"

"Oh yeah..."

Gomez shook his head in amusement and started up the car. As it roared out of the laboratory F turned around and began making his way back to the table.

"Hey, Thing!" He called. "Get that extinguisher ready again, I've got a few more gadgets to explode!"


End file.
